The Weight of Water
by WaltzMatildah
Summary: Implied AlexGeorge. My take on the ferry crash, Alex and George are in the morgue taking photos...the rest is totally AU as Alex struggles to cope with personal tragedy and the emotional fall out from the crash. Chapter 6: 'And the world passed him by...'
1. Chapter 1

**The Weight Of Water**

Chapter One

Rating: Implied Alex/George and a few naughty words.

Word Count: 3191

Summary: My take on the ferry crash, Alex and George are in the morgue taking photos…the rest is completely AU.

Disclaimer: They're not mine…

---

'You could have told me this is what you meant.'

George swallowed hastily a few times before zipping the next body bag open. The magnitude of what had happened was slowly starting to sink in and he was finding it increasingly difficult to remain focused and detached. Hell, who was he kidding? Here he was, a trained surgeon, sifting through body bags in the morgue looking for a missing boy…he was so far on the wrong side of focused and detached that he couldn't even see the line anymore.

He looked across at Alex who was re-zipping a matching body bag after having photographed the middle aged male encased in it. Some of the injuries were horrific, the burns, the traumatic amputations…he was beginning to wonder whether the sights he had seen would be with him forever. It was times like these he wished he could be more like Alex, there wasn't a lot of those times, but this was definitely one of them. Alex was the epitome of focused and detached, nothing ever seemed to phase him and even though George was gradually starting to find out all sorts of things about Alex that he never would have imagined, that he could remain focused and detached was something George relied on, it was a grounding for his own wayward emotions and tendency to panic and over react. George liked to think they were a perfect example of opposites attracting, they complemented each other perfectly and while their relationship wasn't exactly common knowledge, George was comfortable with it, it was a perfect fit both physically when Alex curled up with his head on George's chest and emotionally, when Alex lost a patient and George knew all he needed for comfort was a reassuring smile and a beer.

George was snapped from his reverie when Alex crouched suddenly and snapped the Polaroid camera in the direction of George's ass.

'Alex…geez…we're in, Alex. God, I can't believe you just did that, we're in the _morgue_ Alex, with the recently dead, the recently _traumatically_ dead, don't you think…'

'Exactly, they're dead, I think they're beyond caring about the inappropriate.'

'But…that's not, it's not…I give up…you have no idea do you, this…this whole thing…' George gesticulated wildly around him, flailing arms pointing to the myriad of body bags, '…does it even _effect_ you?'

'George…fine…you're right…totally inappropriate…no more ass photos…' Alex smirked as he flashed the camera in George's face, clicking the button once to capture the look of startled surprise.

'Alex…seriously? Did you just…did you…just keep taking your photos…photos of _them_…not me and I will keep looking for the boy and then we can get the hell out of here…'

George bent to zip open the next in the seemingly endless procession of body bags when he was stopped in his tracks by a guttural, almost inhuman sound behind him. He spun quickly, unprepared for the sight of Alex struggling to pull an open body bag out from its place on the racking.

'Alex? What the hell are you…Alex?'

George couldn't even contemplate what happened next, couldn't comprehend, couldn't _breathe. _As the body, still firmly ensconced in the black body bag, hit the floor with dull thud and a rustle of thick plastic George could see the blonde hair, the translucent skin, and as the plastic slid away amid Alex's frantic movements, the small bulge of her pregnant belly. George stood, transfixed, statuesque, _rigid_, the only sounds he could hear Alex's harsh, ragged breathing and unconscious, panic filled verbalisations.

'George, help me…get her out…' Alex was fighting with the plastic, wrestling almost, to free the girl, his confused movements only succeeding in tangling the girls long hair in the thick plastic zip and as Alex frantically pulled at the bag, freeing her finally, George felt bile rise in the back of his throat when a small chunk of blonde strands pulled free to remain trapped in the zip mechanism.

George's vision blurred, blue pulsating lines that were making it impossible to concentrate, to fathom, to _process_ as Alex reached violently trembling fingers to the lifeless forms neck, appearing to feel for a pulse.

'Oh no…no…God…she's not…Alex? Is she…?'

Another gut wrenching moan escaped Alex's white, bloodless lips as he leaned forward to cover her mouth with his own, breathing forcefully, desperately, _manically_ for her. Her left hand was almost touching George's feet and he bent suddenly to grab it, to see, to _feel_ for himself. The hand was cold, too cold and too rigid for there to be life, hope, a flicker of a chance.

'Alex, it's okay, she's not…I'm pretty sure…no…I'm _positive_…'

George looked up from the pale fingers, and the dainty diamond adorning her ring finger to find Alex's eyes, to reassure him only to find them raging with something George had never seen before, definitely not in Alex and maybe not ever. He was performing CPR, calculated and practised and medically accurate, pausing every five compressions to breath deeply into the girl's mouth. The precision of his actions a complete contrast to the manic, flashing in his eyes and the almost seizure like shaking that was wracking his shoulders.

George leaned forward to clamp his hand around Alex's arm.

'Alex? You don't need to…Alex, it's too late, it's okay.'

'No…get off me…'

Alex spun roughly and planted his hands flat on George's chest, shoving him forcefully back into the wall behind them. The back of George's head collected solidly with the plaster, the flash of pain and the dark, bloody handprints transferred from the body to Alex to _him_, only adding to his rapidly escalating confusion. By the time he had reacted, had reached a hand to the back of his head to rub at the already forming lump, to even begin to form a verbal response, Alex had resumed his position on the floor, resumed the breathing, resumed the desperate compressions.

'Alex…what the hell?'

Whether Alex was ignoring him or, even more shockingly, was simply unable to articulate a response George couldn't figure out but he knew something was wrong…something way beyond crashed ferry boats and mass casualties was _wrong_ with Alex.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, George forced himself to turn from Alex's hunched figure and flee for the door, he needed to find someone, _anyone_, to deal with this, to deal with _Alex_ because this, this was so far beyond George's comprehension he felt like it wasn't even Alex in the room with him anymore, just some disturbing parody that _looked_ like Alex but wasn't…Alex.

He heard the door close with an airy woosh behind him as he sprinted up the stairs and lurched wildly around the corner, overshooting comically and colliding with the wall opposite. He could see Mark Sloan in the distance, intently examining x-rays on a light board as he tripped over his own foot and crashed heavily to the corridor floor. Not even bothering to stand, simply drawing himself up against the wall in a semi-foetal position George looked up at Mark, imploring him silently to help, to _fix_.

'Dr. O'Malley? Something I can do for…'

'Dr. Sloan, you need to come…I don't know what happened…he's…it's…he's…'

'O'Malley, seriously?'

George was only too aware that Mark was staring at him like he had lost his mind…maybe he had, maybe they all had.

'It's Alex…I think…shit…I don't know…you just need to come with me.'

George was distracted suddenly as Mark's bemused gaze left him and darted further down the corridor.

'What the..?'

George, still slumped against the wall, spun to follow Mark's gaze, his breath catching in his throat as he contemplated the possibilities.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.

Alex was staggering down the corridor towards them, struggling desperately under the weight, the dead weight he was carrying. Blood had stained the knees of his scrub pants and was smeared down his thighs, obviously from when he had wrestled the body desperately from the bag. More shocking than this however was the dry, smeared blood on his face, transferred while Alex was performing CPR on the cold morgue floor. One of the girl's arms was dangling loosely by Alex's knees, the angle indicating her shoulder was more than just dislocated. Her clothes were torn and blood stained and George could see her blonde hair was longer than he had first been able to tell.

Mark had already started jogging in Alex's direction but George couldn't bring himself to move. He watched the vision before him play out like a silent movie, any sound that might have carried to him drowned out by the rushing of blood and breath in his head.

Alex slumped to the floor cradling the girl carefully as he placed her flat and resumed the distraught CPR he had been performing in the morgue.

'Get Dr. Montgomery…we need…Addison, get Addison…Addison…'

The deranged voice was enough to break through the fog clouding George's brain and he staggered slowly to his feet and took a step forward. Mark had reached Alex by now, had kneeled to the cool tile beside him and had pressed two fingers to the girl's neck to see for himself.

'Karev, what on Earth do you think you are doing?'

'No, no, no…' Alex was muttering manically to himself under his breath, '…we need Addison…we need..'

'Dr. Karev, Dr. Montgomery won't be able to do anything…'

'Yes, Dr. Montgomery, Addison…ADDISON…'

Alex was screaming now, at the top of his voice, almost into the girl's face as he continued the CPR.

'Alex?' George whispered softly, coming up to stand in front of him, 'Alex, please stop it, it's too late, you're freaking everyone out.'

'Too late, too late, too late…'

Alex adjusted his mumbled mantra to echo George's words, stopping only to breath deeply into the girl's mouth.

'Karev, Jesus, would you just…'

Mark turned to clamp his hands tightly onto Alex's upper arms, to force him to listen, to understand, to _stop_ and before George had even formed the words to warn Mark that touching him probably wasn't a good idea Mark was sprawled flat on his back on the corridor floor.

'O'Malley, what the _fuck_ is going on?'

A small crowd was beginning to gather, staring fixedly at either a blood stained Alex still performing CPR on the quite obviously very deceased pregnant girl or like Mark, at George waiting for an explanation.

'Uh…I don't…we…we were in the morgue, taking photos…for identification…but, I don't…he just…'

George's tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth making it even harder for him than it already usually was to piece together a coherent sentence.

'Get Dr. Bailey here now, anybody seen here? Page her, yell, scream, I don't care, just get her here _now_…and security, get security.'

'No, no, no, not Dr. Bailey…Addison….ADDISON…'

'Karev…O'Malley, get me something, anything, diazepam…ten milligrams.'

George's blood froze in his veins and the thought of Mark sedating Alex, of helping to sedate Alex _himself_ made his gut clench reflexively.

'No, no…we can't…it'll be okay…Alex, please…'

'Does it look like it's okay, O'Malley? Get the damn injection…'

George staggered backwards desperately, trying to balance out the consequences of directly disobeying an order from a superior compared to …well, compared to what the alternative meant. A familiar, strong, _welcome_ voice boomed from the corner breaking George's thought processes and he turned instinctively in the direction of the sound.

'Dr. Bailey…thank God, I don't…he's not…'

'Miranda?' Mark curled one finger in her direction, directing her to the side so he could talk to her quickly and quietly away from the gathered throng. Despite the fact that they were no more than five metres from where George stood, as soon as Mark disappeared from his field of vision George felt completely alone in an alternate universe that contained only him and a dead, pregnant girl and a manic caricature of someone who looked like his boyfriend.

All noise and movement evaporated while the hospital walls and fluorescent lighting ceased to exist and all George could do was stand and stare at the slow motion vision playing out in front of him. Alex had run his hands through his hair at some stage, probably in the same way George liked to do when they sat entwined in each other on the couch or in bed, only when George did it he didn't leave behind dirty streaks of blood that caused small tufts of hair to cling together and stick up at acute angles from his head.

George only breathed again when Dr. Bailey re-entered the scene and knelt facing Alex on the opposite side of the body.

'Where's Addison?' Alex gasped, his voice hitched and breaking as George guessed he was dangerously close to hyperventilating.

'She's not here, Alex,' Miranda calmly replied, her calm, even tone a stark contrast to George's panic and Alex's desperation.

'Alex,' she continued in the same tone, 'you've done everything you can Alex, but it's too late, she didn't make it…'

Alex moaned softly, sadly, a deep guttural sound that instantly engrained itself in George's memory and played like backing music to his disjointed thoughts.

'Alex?' Dr. Bailey leaned forward slowly and as Alex looked up at her through tear filled, unfocused, sea blue eyes, she raised her hands and placed them on either side of his blood smeared face, angling his chin so she filled his field of vision, so he could see nothing but her face and hear nothing but her words.

'Alex, what's her name?'

A strangled sob escaped from between Alex's white lips as George's brain struggled to catch up, to comprehend that Alex might actually know this girl.

'Jessica…Jessie…Jessie…little Jessie…' Alex whispered in reply, running his hand down the side of her face.

'Okay Alex, Dr. Sloan is going to organise to take Jessica back to the morgue, someone will clean her up and you can go and see her again later…okay?

'Jessie…Jessie' Alex continued to whisper, 'I'm sorry…so sorry…so sorry…'

'Alex, it's okay…Dr. Sloan is going to look after her and George,' Miranda turned her head slowly to lock her eyes on his, 'George is going to take what Dr. Sloan has in his hand and then he's going to get an oxygen mask for you and then we are going to clean you up and everyone else,' she turned again to stare at the gathered crowd, 'is going to _leave_, now…_right_…_now_…and they are going to find something to do that will keep them occupied for a _very_…_long_…_time_, is that okay Alex? Alex, look at me. Okay?'

Alex nodded almost imperceptibly, seeming to regain some focus and sense of himself from Dr. Bailey's calm, reassuring words so George turned to Dr. Sloan and took the proffered syringe he had obviously obtained while Dr. Bailey was talking to Alex. He then stepped into the closest room and grabbed an oxygen mask from a cupboard before returning and handing both items to Dr. Bailey who had managed to get Alex sitting back against the corridor wall. She pressed the mask over his nose and mouth and urged Alex to relax and to breathe slowly, her calming words making George feel redundant and at a complete loss.

'O'Malley,' Dr. Bailey indicated for him to come closer.

'Okay Alex, George and I are going to take you to get cleaned up.'

Taking a side each they managed to haul an exhausted Alex to his feet and steer him in the direction of the closest bathroom.

George realised their mistake at the same time as Dr. Bailey and both of them realised it an instant too late to change it. The bathroom was full of mirrors and while George had had some time to adjust to the sight of Alex's blood smeared face, Alex was seeing it for the first time. He froze in front of the mirror, not blinking or moving or breathing, his breath caught completely inside of him, the oxygen mask no longer fogging up with calming regularity. He reached one violently trembling hand up and pulled the mask away, revealing the full extent of the mess and then moved to finger the blood decorating his right cheek, running his fingers slowly down the side of his own face.

'No, no, no…'

George hurried to wet some paper towels as Dr. Bailey moved to pull Alex's hand away.

'It's okay, Alex. We'll have you cleaned up in no…'

'I feel sick…' Alex whispered, his skin, under the blood smears, turning a deathly white as Dr. Bailey ushered him into the nearest cubicle where George could hear him retching and gasping into the bowl. George peered around the corned and into the cubicle, finding Alex curled into Dr. Bailey's arms crying silently and couldn't help but feel he had failed Alex completely today, as his workmate, as his friend but most of all as his partner. He handed Dr. Bailey a wad of dampened towels so she could begin to clean some of the blood smears from Alex's face but the motion caused Alex to jerk upright and lurch towards the mirrors, clawing desperately at his face with his fingernails.

'Get it off…please…get it off…'

'Alex, stop it, we'll get it off just…'

'Get it off…get it off…'

Alex was dragging his fingernails over his cheeks, streaking the blood smears and creating deep, red welts as George saw Dr. Bailey reach into her pocket and pull out the syringe Dr. Sloan had organised only minutes earlier. His vision blurred momentarily, the first indication that tears were forming in his own eyes, as he reached forward and grabbed hold of Alex's hands while Dr. Bailey removed the cap from the syringe and depressed the insert, releasing the sedative into Alex blood stream. It took only a few moments for Alex to visibly sag, his knees giving way as George helped to ease him to the floor, wrapping his arms around him protectively and rocking him slowly as his eyes closed and his breathing evened out. It was only when Dr. Bailey returned with a nurse and Izzie and a gurney that George even realised she had left.

Dr. Bailey pressed the oxygen mask back over Alex's face before indicating for George to help them get him onto the gurney. George reluctantly loosened his grasp and together they settled Alex on the mattress and wheeled him into a curtained cubicle where Izzie re-appeared with a bowl of warm water and some washcloths. Dr. Bailey and the nurse left them there and silently, for there was no need for words, George and Izzie began to wash the blood from Alex's hands and face. She returned about half an hour later with the Chief at her side, Alex was still sleeping and would be for some time yet but at least the blood was mostly gone, revealing the extent of the damage Alex's nails had caused. George and Izzie had still not spoken but Izzie was the first to break the silence.

'Do you know who she was?'

The Chief looked to Dr. Bailey, who nodded silently at him.

'She was twenty one year old, Jessica Elizabeth Karev, she was Alex's little sister and she was six months pregnant.'

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**The Weight of Water: Chapter 2**

Word Count: 3133

Disclaimer: They're not mine…

Story Summary: Implied George/Alex though NOTHING graphic. Mostly about Alex. Starts in the morgue after the ferry crash but completely AU from there as Alex battles to deal with personal tragedy and the emotional fall out from the crash…

Chapter Summary: Alex's POV.

---

The stark white room was blissfully empty when Alex finally woke. The exact details of why he was actually there in the first place were more than a little fuzzy but something innate was telling him it wasn't good and he should probably get out of there before anyone discovered he was awake. His head felt as though someone had removed his brain and replaced it with fluffy, white, vanilla marshmallows and as he stepped out into the hallway the sounds of the busy hospital reverberated dully in the back of his conscience. He made it successfully undetected all the way to the locker room and he paused slightly before slowly pushing the door open. Three sets of eyes all darted towards him, the collective gasp making him question again exactly what the hell had happened. Izzie stood suddenly, seeming to look behind him, as though she were expecting someone else to follow him into the room.

'Alex, hey…where's George?'

Her face was a mix of gentle concern and unbridled panic, which Alex found particularly disconcerting.

'I dunno,' the sound of his own voice shocked him, resonating hoarsely through the fog it felt like he was wading through and he silently sent a quick prayer to whoever was listening, hoping that he didn't seem as out of it to the others as he did inside his own head, 'haven't you guys seen him? He was looking for a missing boy…maybe…'

A sudden flash of the cold morgue, filled to bursting with black, plastic body bags made Alex's chest constrict tightly as pieces of earlier that day started to click back into place. He raised a hand to his right cheek; the smooth flesh raised and sensitive to the touch as he ran trembling fingers down his cheek.

'Alex? I'm…we're all…sorry….so sorry…about…'

Izzie was walking towards him now, closing the distance between them slowly but steadily as Meredith and Christina remained seated and exchanged concerned looks. The closer Izzie got to him, the more claustrophobic he started to feel, taking a step back successfully stopped Izzie in her tracks as more memories flooded his vision with such vigour that suddenly Izzie and the locker room and the concerned glances were little more than muffled background static.

_George was there, screaming…no, wait…that's not George's voice…it was __**him**__**he**__ was screaming. There were body bags everywhere…one open…on the floor…_

Alex took another step back; not even registering as his sweat soaked back met the cold locker room wall.

_The hospital corridor…screaming for Addison…Mark was there and George still…and he was doing CPR and there was blood on his hands and on his scrubs and he could taste it in his mouth…then Dr. Bailey…then…Jess…pregnant…_

'Alex?'

The sudden sound snapped Alex back to the present, his heart pounding painfully in his chest and the metallic taste of blood, her blood, in his mouth. The three girls were staring at him intently, gazing almost, as though they were expecting him to…well, he wasn't really sure what they were expecting.

'Uh, I've gotta go…if you see George, can you tell him that I…umm, home…I'm gonna go home…' Alex could feel his stomach beginning to revolt and he swallowed convulsively, instinctively knowing that if he didn't get out of there right away he was going to vomit at Izzie's feet.

He pushed through the door, relishing the cooler temperature of the quiet hallway and began to walk away. He heard the door open behind him as someone followed him out, calling his name but he continued on his way, ignoring the faceless voice.

---

He'd been home all of about five minutes before George burst through the front door with the energy and speed of a small cyclone. He'd not bothered with the lights and was sitting on the bathroom floor in the dark, side on to the wall with his cheek pressed up against the frigid tile.

'Alex…_Alex_? Are you here?'

Alex could hear him frantically tearing from room to room, banging doors and switching lights on haphazardly but couldn't bring himself to stand or say anything. He was having enough trouble controlling himself; he just didn't believe he had the strength to deal with George too. George's silhouette appeared in the bathroom doorway at the same time his mobile phone rang, Alex could see he looked torn for a moment before he reached into his pocket and pulled the still ringing device from it's depths.

'Hello…Yeah…yep, he's here…'

Alex closed his eyes and sighed, hating that they had been looking for him, that they thought they _needed_ to look for him, like he was someone that couldn't look after himself. He rose to his feet unsteadily, leaning heavily on the basin above him as George ended the call and stepped closer, raising a tentative hand to cup Alex's cheek.

'Don't George.'

Alex tried desperately to keep the pained waiver from his voice as the look on George's face threatened to undo him all over again.

'Alex…'

'_Please_…George…don't…'

The sob escaped before Alex had time to try and stop it and he closed his eyes and took a step forward, he couldn't see through the unshed tears anyway and keeping his eyes closed meant it was easier to keep them that way…_unshed_. He tried to push his way past George and out into the hall, the bathroom was beginning to feel more like a prison than the sanctuary of calm it had been only minutes ago, but instead found himself enveloped in George's surprisingly strong arms and being gently guided in the direction of the couch where they both collapsed into each other and remained curled together in the dark for an indeterminate amount of time.

George was the first to move, rousing Alex from the fitful slumber he had allowed himself to sink into wrapped in George's familiar, comfortable embrace.

'I'll make us some dinner…'

Alex nodded and allowed George to extricate himself from the tangle of Alex's longer limbs. He nodded again, dumbly, as George asked if pasta was okay even though he already knew he would be eating very little tonight. The fog had returned and Alex could think of nothing better than letting it take him over again, the light, cushion-y softness of denial.

---

Death by traumatic, mass casualty causing ferry accidents meant delays in everything: body identification, autopsies, coronial inquests and not least of all, funerals. It was almost two weeks before Jessica's body was returned to Iowa to be laid to rest in a small cemetery where their grandparents were buried.

'I'll come with you…if you like…' George had offered, cautious and hopeful in one breath.

_Yes, please. I don't think…no…I **know** I can't do this without you, I probably won't be able to do it with you either but at least if you are there I can worry about everything else and leave me to you._

'No, it's okay. Bailey probably won't let both of us go anyway…'

And so he had gone, alone, possibly more alone than he had ever been before and it had been all the different types of terrible and horrible and _hard_ that he had already known it would be. He had felt ill the whole time he was there, had eaten basically nothing the entire trip save for what his aunts force fed him, though even that had a tendency to make a regular, calculated reappearance no more than five minutes after it was consumed and what was starting to become most disconcerting was the continual feeling of being unclean that would overwhelm him at times. No matter how hard he scrubbed or how hot the water was he couldn't get the feeling of her blood off his hands and his face and out of his mouth. The scratches on his cheeks had taken days longer than they should have to heal because he continually scrubbed at them until the edges reopened and the savage redness returned.

His mother had been worse then he could have imagined, alternating wildly between catatonic silences and raving hysteria. One moment she would be curled sedately on the couch, staring at the flickering television with the sound muted out and the next she would be screaming in his face and belting him with her small fists, blaming him for not saving her.

_'She would never have even been on the damn boat if you hadn't told her about that fucking specialist. You think we don't have good doctors here? You think we're not good enough for you Alex? It's your fault, you should have left her the hell alone, you should have known you'd screw it up, you always do. It's your fault…'_

'I know, I know, I know…' he had whispered into her hair as he rocked her in his arms until the hysteria passed, until the blame filled his soul, until he believed it was the absolute truth.

---

He could see his appearance shocked George the moment their eyes connected in the airport terminal but George being George managed not to say anything to upset him. He knew he looked terrible, he was kilograms lighter, he had stopped shaving in an unsuccessful attempt to convince himself the blood was gone, his clothes looked rumpled and unchanged, which they were, and more than anything, he needed to sleep.

George had simply taken his backpack off him and guided him wordlessly to where he had parked the car, opening the door for him and not moving from his side until Alex was seated and bucked in.

'So…did everything…was it…are _you_…okay?'

Alex snorted rudely and closed his eyes, leaning back deeply into the worn cushioning of the seat. He knew George was just trying to be nice, was just caring, was just being George but…

'Alex…don't please. I'm trying here…but…I don't know what…'

'Don't then…don't try…don't…do anything…except take me home…'

It was the most Alex had left to offer as his thought processes were slowly started to shift towards the red shadowing on his hands that were fidgeting restlessly in his lap. He could see the blood, bright and sticky in some parts, dark and dried in others as he desperately suppressed the urge to scream or slam his fist through the windshield. By the time they pulled into their driveway Alex was positively humming with desperation. He clawed the door open, stopping just long enough to rip his seat belt off and pull his keys from his pocket before bursting through the door with such force that it flung open and back into the hallway wall with a loud crack.

The bathroom was approximately fifteen paces away from the entrance, at the opposite end of the hall, but Alex covered the distance in eight loping strides before slamming the wooden door locked behind him. He twisted both taps on hard, the jet of water almost painful on his already raw palms as he grabbed the nail brush from the ledge above the basin and began rhythmically scrubbing, first one hand then the other, up both arms to his elbows only vaguely aware of the pounding on the door behind him and the frantic verbalisations of George out in the hallway.

'I'll be out in a minute…' he called, forcing his voice to remain level and controlled.

'I was just…busting for a piss…' he covered with a smooth lie, one he had practised regularly over the past week.

Finally feeling the tension ebb away, Alex took a deep breath before grabbing a discarded towel and quickly drying his hands and face before stepping out into the hall, almost colliding with a nervously pacing George.

'Alex…?'

'So…dinner? What would you like? I'm cooking…'

'Alex,' more of a demand this time than a question.

'Seriously George, I was about to piss my pants…too much coffee on the plane. Now what do you want to eat? Pizza? Maybe I won't cook, I'll dial.'

'Fine,' George sighed defeatedly, 'Pizza will be fine.'

Alex gave in to George somewhat for the rest of the evening, doing his best to remain calm and polite and to eat two slices of the barbeque chicken pizza he had ordered even if it did begin to swell in his throat and lodge in his stomach by the last painful mouthful. He even let George kiss him and run his cool fingers along his arms and over his lips as they sat together watching reality show after reality show, George's latest obsession, until night was well and truly upon them. By the time George finally stood and suggested they make their way to bed Alex could concentrate on nothing but the solid feeling of pizza in his gut, images of it mixing with the blood on his lips that _surely_ must still be there sending fierce messages to his brain to _get it out_.

George used the bathroom first, unknowingly leaving Alex trembling violently on the couch alone, begging the food to stay down til he could deal with it without having George as an audience. The five minutes it took George to clean his teeth and use the toilet felt like an hour and by the time Alex brushed past him in the hall, having deliberately left the television blaring on the music station to drown out any sounds he might make, the pizza was already half way back out.

---

George only tried to convince him to take some more time off once the next morning, coming to wrap his arms around Alex's waist from behind as Alex stood in front of the bathroom mirror shaving.

'I'm sure they'd understand…I can…it'll be…'

'George,' Alex had replied testily, pausing with the razor half way to his neck to lock his gaze on George's via the steam smeared mirror.

'I'm going back today, my leave ended yesterday, they're expecting me back. If you're not going to give me a lift then I'll run.'

There must have been just the right combination of strength and surety in his voice for George simply nodded and said he would organise some breakfast which Alex already knew he wouldn't eat more than a few mouthfuls of.

---

Alex made it to lunch without too much drama. Dr. Bailey had assigned him to her and had kept a pretty close eye on him all morning, in fact he would be surprised if she had managed to do any of her own work at all, such was the amount of time she spent checking on him. While he was grateful for her support he was a little less excited about the whispered conversations that would end abruptly as he rounded corners or entered departments and the staring eyes that he felt he couldn't escape from. In all though, the morning had been a fairly mundane one, filled with stitches and x-rays and nothing even remotely surgical but he hadn't really expected anything more.

By the time he had collected a tray of food and made his way across to the table the other four were already seated and again he found himself bringing a hushed conversation to a sudden close as fingernails and food and _anything but him_ quickly became incredibly interesting.

'Not you lot too,' he sighed, sinking into the one remaining chair between Meredith and George.

'How 'bout I do this once so we can all get on with our lives…I AM FINE…' he ended with a trademark sarcastic smirk and stole a french fry from George's plate as a way to signal the finish of the conversation.

Izzie giggled nervously and George looked anything but convinced but at least Meredith and Christina seemed to get the message as they started up a discussion on a neuro case Meredith was currently interning on. Alex was pleased for the opportunity to zone out and he leaned one knee up against George's under the table in a placating manner and stole another fry.

Lunch was almost over, his tray empty and the chat dwindling, before Alex even realised he'd not thought about her once today. Not her blonde hair or her blue eyes. Not her pregnant belly and the little life growing inside her and especially not her blood on his hands and smeared across his face and in his mouth. The harder he tried to flight the images the faster they seemed to bombard his senses until he could see nothing but blue and red and grey. He stood suddenly, roughly, his chair tipping back to land noisily on its side behind him. He bent to straighten it, mumbling that he'd forgotten he was supposed to meet Dr. Bailey five minutes ago. He was vaguely aware of voices around him but they were drowned out instantly by the rushing of blood and jagged breath in his head.

He made it to the bathroom only seconds before his lunch reached the point of no return. Closing his eyes tightly to block out the vision of it swirling away with the water as he flushed the toilet, he sunk to the floor, reaching up quickly to turn the lock on the door of the oversized disabled facility. He sat leaning against the cold wall, relishing the cool on his hot, sweat soaked back, banging the back of his head rhythmically into the wall, trying to use the jarring pain to wipe everything else out. The longer he sat the angrier he got with himself, with his head for doing this to him, _with_ _her_.

His breathing was harsh and painful and he stood dizzily to move to the sink for some water to rinse his mouth out. The mirror over the basin painted a clear picture of his sunken eyes and sweat beaded brow, his hot, fast breath fogging the glass briefly with each exhalation while he stood transfixed as his image disappeared and then reappeared with systematic regularity.

He clenched his teeth tightly, breathing noisily through them and baring them slightly, giving his appearance a deranged edge. He closed his eyes briefly and brought his fist back before punching his face in the mirror with all the strength he had left in him. The glass shattered as his knuckles impacted the fragile surface, distorting his reflection and sending reflective pieces of silver splattered with bright, shiny red crashing to the tiled floor. He brought his fist up again, unable to tear his eyes from the disjointed image staring savagely back at him, before crashing it repeatedly into the remaining glass fragments, oblivious to the splitting skin and breaking bones as pain and fear lost all meaning.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

The Weight Of Water 

Chapter Three

Word Count: 3790

Story Summary: Implied George/Alex. The aftermath of the ferry disaster. George and Alex in the morgue taking pictures, the rest is completely AU as Alex must cope with personal tragedy and the emotional fall out of the crash.

Chapter Summary: Miranda Bailey's POV. No real George/Alex til the end but it sets it up for the next chapter which will have a lot more (I think!).

XXXX

Miranda Bailey rounded the corner sharply and stepped into the bustling emergency department, almost colliding with a nurse who was backing a resuscitation cart out of a curtained triage cubicle.

'Olivia, have you seen Dr. Karev?'

'No, not since he went to lunch, though I'd have thought he'd be back by now. Probably got a better offer to scrub in on something…' she trailed off with a grin before continuing on her way.

Miranda very much doubted that to be the case. Prior to his arrival that morning she had gathered the other residents and attendings and expressly forbidden them from paging him for _anything _let alone something surgical. She was fairly certain they had received her message loud and clear and not many people, arrogant surgical specialists included, dared to disobey Miranda Bailey. Besides she had also indicated to him under no uncertain terms that he wasn't to do anything even remotely medical without her express permission. He had acquiesced without so much as questioning why, a fact Miranda had been pleased about this morning but now, in his absence, was beginning to question.

She decided to give him two more minutes to respond to her second page. As those one hundred and twenty seconds ticked by in seemingly slow motion Miranda began to re-asses her decision to allow him to come back to work without first being cleared by psych. She couldn't even begin to imagine how traumatic the last two weeks had been for him and even she was aware enough to know that the majority of his arrogant, cocky persona was simply a front to convince people he was fine. If she was honest with herself he had looked anything by fine this morning compared to his usual appearance but at the time she had simply passed it off as exhaustion and not thought about it again. Now, as an unidentifiable feeling of dread began to descend, she wished she'd been a little more attentive.

The two minutes elapsed without a response and she made her way to the cafeteria to firstly make sure he wasn't still there with his friends. The lunch rush had passed by the time she pushed the double doors open and entered, making it easy for her to deduce he had definitely left. She could see Christina was just making he way out, the only one of her 'lot' left, and she approached to ask casually if she had seen Alex at all.

'Yeah, he was here for lunch…but he left ages ago…in a big hurry,' Christina replied, 'Actually he said he was late to meet you…'

Christina trailed off, a hint of confusion on her face as Miranda suddenly felt a strange need to cover for him, at least until she knew where he was…then all bets would be off.

'Yes, that's right, I sent him to do something but he seems to have disappeared. Doesn't matter. I'll page him,' she lied effortlessly and turned to continue her search.

Ten minutes later and there was still no sign of him. She had even barged into a few of the more prominent men's bathrooms, much to the chagrin of a couple of her male colleagues who had turned their backs quickly, yelling for her to leave.

'Trust me…boys,' she started, mockingly, 'you ain't got nothing that could shock me,' before adding surreptitiously, 'Dr. Karev in here?'

He wasn't and she was fast running out of places to check.

XXXX

The closer she got to the intern's locker room the more strangely certain she became that she had discovered his hiding place. So convinced she was that when she pushed the door open and found it echoingly empty she turned to leave again before stopping and returning for another look. It was on this second entry to the apparently deserted room that she noticed the spattering of red droplets on the floor at her feet. She bent for a closer inspection and it was from this lowered position that she discovered a trail of similar drops that started somewhere out in the hall and traversed the locker room to the door on the other side. The showers.

Miranda stood, unable to quell the sudden sense of unease that caused her pulse to quicken and the room to feel suffocatingly hot. She had taken ten tentative steps towards the door before the distinctive sound of running water became clearer. She hurried to cover the remaining distance and flung the swinging door open with excessive force.

'Alex?'

She received no reply but the running water was coming from the far end stall, the flimsy plastic shower curtain pulled across but the water spilling out from underneath it to pool on the tiles at her feet. For a split second Miranda found she was totally incapable of opening the curtain, of revealing who or what was behind it. She bent instead, placing two fingers into the puddle at her feet for a reason she couldn't explain. The water was freezing and that coupled with the fact that there was no steam had her suddenly doubting there was anyone in there at all. The idea that the stall was empty was all it took for Miranda to be able to pull the dark material aside. The curtain was three quarters open and her hand outstretched to shut off the offending tap before she noticed the stall was occupied.

She jumped back in panic, one hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle the unintentional scream, her other hand behind her, trapped between her back and the frigid tile.

'Alex?'

The sight of him was even more terrifying than the initial shock of finding someone there at all He was crouched into a ball, knees brought up to his chest and forehead tipped so that his face was completely obscured from view. The full force of the freezing cold water was pounding into the back of his neck; he was fully clothed and completely saturated. His left arm was wrapped around his shins, white, bloodless fingers bunched in the material of his scrub pants. His right and lay curled on the icy tiles beside him and for the first time Miranda noticed the exposed knuckles and white flaps of skin that would redden momentarily before the next splash of water cleaned his blood away and swirled it down the drain.

Jerking back into action, Miranda extended her arm flinchingly through the freezing shower stream to the blood-smeared tap and twisted the handle violently, shutting off the flow. Her eyes focused in on the bloody handprints that adorned the pristine white tiles higher up than the water had been able to reach and wash away.

Deliberately clenching her eyes tightly shut before re-focusing her attention and opening them again, Miranda knelt directly in front of an ominously still and silent Alex, the pooled water immediately soaking the knees of her scrub pants and again the icy temperature threatened to take her breath away.

'Alex?' she almost shouted, the sound of her voice reverberating loudly throughout the tiled room. Receiving no response she clamped one hand on either side of his face and tilted his head back onto the tile behind him. His eyes were closed his eyelids almost transparent and his long, dark lashes clumped together with tiny droplets of water clinging to their ends. His lips were slightly parted and a disturbing shade of lilac blue which had Miranda immediately reaching a hand forward to feel for a pulse. His skin seemed as cold as the water that surrounded them but Miranda released the breath she had been holding when she felt the beat of blood under her fingers. It wasn't strong enough and it definitely wasn't anywhere near fast enough but it would do for now.

She contemplated leaving him there for a moment to get help when the sound of laughter out in the locker room broke through the frozen silence. Waiting another beat until she felt the reassuring pump of blood under her fingers again, she stood quickly and marched back to the door. Flinging it open she was relieved to find Meredith standing, facing her, laughing with someone whose back was to Miranda but whose long black curls were enough to identify her. Meredith was mid-way through removing her scrub top, a brown stain from what Miranda hoped was coffee but knew from personal experience could be a myriad of other things covered the front and she stopped with it half off as Miranda appeared in the doorway.

'Dr. Bailey?' she asked in a confused tone as Christina spun to gaze at her also, quite obviously taken aback by her wet knees and splashed torso.

'Grey, I need you in here, bring all the towels you can find, get them out of lockers, anything I don't care. Yang, I need you to get a gurney and an oxygen kit…now,' she added harshly as they both continued to stare back at her like she was speaking a foreign language.

Christina nodded sharply and Meredith quickly slipped the remainder of the way out of her soiled scrub top.

'…And gauze Yang…lots of gauze,' Miranda added loudly, suddenly remembering Alex's mutilated hand.

She turned then and left the doorway as suddenly as she had appeared in it, returning hurriedly to the hunched figure in the end stall. Alex was largely in the same position she had left him in, though his left hand had relaxed its grip on his scrubs and was now mirroring the curled position of his damaged right hand. The fact that he wasn't shivering worried Miranda more than his obvious injuries and she was just finishing a basic heart rate reading when the door to the shower stalls burst open and she heard Meredith call her name.

'I'm down here,' she answered, briefly poking one hand out so that Meredith could see it before returning her attention to Alex.

'Bring the towels with you.'

'I found about six, will that be eno…' Meredith's voiced trailed off as Miranda felt her presence stiffen behind her.

'Oh God…is…oh God…Dr. Bailey?'

'Grey, do _not_ freak out on me. I need your _help_ so you _cannot_ freak out.'

She heard Meredith take a deep shuddering breath, obviously steeling herself to assist.

'Okay…' she signed breathily, kneeling beside Miranda in the cold puddles.

'Jesus, it's freezing…' she proclaimed unnecessarily.

'I'm well aware of that Grey, we need to get him out of here, out of these clothes. Heart rates about 37, resp's equally low but I couldn't get an accurate idea, I'd say about 5 or 6. Watch his right arm, I haven't had a chance to check out how bad that is yet.'

The clattering out in the locker room announced Christina's reappearance with the gurney and Miranda nodded to Meredith to go and get the supplies.

'Tell Christina to stand at the door. She's not to let anyone in. I mean anyone, under any circumstances and tell her to page the Chief down here.'

Meredith nodded before jogging to the doorway, her rubber soled shoes squeaking painfully on the shiny tiles as Miranda turned her attention back to Alex, lifting his eyelids one at a time to check his reaction to light.

'Oh Alex,' she whispered, running a hand over his cold, pale cheek while her eyes lowered to his mutilated right hand, 'what on Earth have you done to yourself?'

The squeak of her shoes altered Miranda to Meredith's return and she popped her head out to see what she was bringing with her. She was pleased to note the bottle of oxygen she was wheeling with her right hand and the bag of supplies that dangled from her left, bouncing off her knee with every forward motion.

'Did you tell Chris…'

'Yes,' she cut Miranda off. 'Trust me, no one but the Chief will be getting past Christina.'

XXXX

Waiting for the Chief to arrive Miranda and Meredith had managed, with a great degree of difficulty, to shift Alex from the cold, tiled shower stall and out into the relative warmth of the locker room. Had he been conscious Miranda was certain he would have protested their improvised carry technique loudly. They had also managed, with the help of some sharp scissors, to remove his sodden scrub top and pants and had wrapped him in the towels Meredith had pilfered from the open lockers. Meredith had then slid in behind him on the floor and had wrapped her own tiny body around his back in an attempt to warm him up leaving Miranda to concentrate on his mangled fist. Away from the water and with his core temperature slowly rising the blood was beginning to flow more freely again, making it difficult to get an accurate idea of the extent of the damage.

Finally conceding there was little they could do until they had him moved, she had simply wrapped it in gauze and strapped a crisp, white bandage over the top, hoping to minimise the chance of infection but knowing the damage would have already been done by the millions of germs festering in the shower stalls.

By the time the Chief finally did arrive Alex was shivering violently and beginning to regain consciousness; murmured, nonsensical verbalisation's their first clue.

'Alex? Can you hear me?' she asked quietly while the Chief busied himself making phone calls to have a room set up and a x-ray booked. Within five minutes of his arrival all the arrangements had been made and they were almost ready to call Christina into the room to help them lift him up gently onto the gurney.

Alex's eyelids fluttered open at Miranda's words before closing again but it was enough for her to detect the un-focused emptiness that filled them.

'Alex? It's Dr. Bailey…Meredith's here too…can you open your eyes for me?'

Alex groaned and shifted his position on the floor slightly, causing one towel to slide away which Meredith quickly moved to re-position.

'Christina, can you get me the jacket he has in his locker?' Meredith asked, but looked to Miranda as if asking her permission to act.

Alex's eyes opened half way again only this time they remained that way, punctuated only by slow methodical blinking.

'Alex? Do you know where you are?'

He was shivering uncontrollably still as Meredith ran a hand vigorously up and down his left upper arm, avoiding the now bandaged right appendage.

His response was to blink vaguely again and to shift his attention somewhere over her shoulder.

'George?'

'Alex, it's Mer…George is here but we're looking after you okay? Christina's he…'

'George?'

There was more panic in the repeated question and Miranda suddenly realised that things could get out of hand quite quickly here.

'Alex, it's Dr. Bailey. You've hurt you're hand so you need to stay still for me okay? George isn't here but he's coming,' she lied, 'you can see him as soon as we get you fixed up.'

Alex's head lolled to the right, almost colliding with Meredith's as she peered at Miranda over his shoulder, to look dazedly at his bandaged hand.

'Hurts…' he groaned again, louder this time and a little more certain sounding, like he had figured out where the pain was coming from and felt compelled to complain about it.

'Chief? What do you think?' Miranda looked questioningly at Richard, wanting desperately for him to have all the answers and to know how to fix this because for all her calm authority, Miranda had no idea what her next move should be.

'Well, radiology's on stand-by but I want to have a look at it first, clean it up a bit…' Richard leaned in closer to Miranda, '…psych's waiting too…just in case…what do you think?'

Miranda sighed and closed her eyes, she had been dreading this moment and had been thankful she had so far not needed to think of the correct response.

'Well, he seems…'

Miranda looked down at Alex, his head was resting on Meredith's shoulder and his eyes were shut again but he was still pale and shivering. The oxygen mask was in place, the oxygen bottle at her feet but his pulse and respiration rate seemed to be stabilising somewhat. The rest of her sentence was cut off by a shouted conversation that erupted suddenly by the door.

'_George, you just need to wait…Jesus, O'Malley…what the hell…'_

'_What's going on, where is he? I just want to…'_

'_George…wait…okay…'_

Miranda looked up to see Christina attempting to physically restrain an obviously agitated George, using one hand to keep him held back and the other to hold the door in place, preventing it from opening any further than George had already managed to get it.

'Let me see him…' 

'George?'

Alex's whisper was too quiet to make it all the way to where George and Christina were still remonstrating with each other but loud enough for the other occupants of the room to hear. His eyes had opened again and were darting left and right as though searching to find his boyfriend.

'George?'

The second time was stronger and decidedly more panicked and loud enough to stop George mid counter attack.

'Alex?'

Miranda's gaze fluctuated between George, now head locked by Christina in the doorway and Alex on the floor. Alex was beginning to stir, his movements uncoordinated and erratic and Meredith was having trouble holding him upright.

'Alex, keep still…c'mon…it's okay…' Meredith murmured at the same Miranda marched in the direction of a wildly struggling Christina, she had to give the girl credit, O'Malley still hadn't made it more than half a body width into the room.

'O'Malley, if you're coming in here you're going to be quiet and calm and you are going to stay out of the way…'

'But what's going on? What happened? No one's saying anything but one of the cleaners just found a disabled bathroom smashed to pieces, apparently there's blood everywhere and I can't find Alex…please just tell me what's going on…'

The information about the bathroom was news to Miranda and she couldn't hide the shock from her face as George relayed the details.

'Dr. Bailey…Chief,' he said looking over her shoulder to the older man, 'please tell me what's going on…'

Miranda's attention was drawn from George as Meredith's plea for help silenced the room.

'Shit…Alex…you need to keep still…'

Alex was attempting to stand, the sodden towels falling from his frame one by one as he pushed himself to his feet, cradling his injured arm against his chest.

'I could use some help here,' Meredith called, using all of her strength to prevent Alex from falling back to the floor. He was obviously getting more and more worked up, murmuring constantly words and requests that were nonsensical and rambled.

Miranda and the Chief both converged on the pair but were too late to stop Alex slipping from Meredith's desperate clutches and backing himself into a corner between the wall and a bay of lockers. He had pulled the oxygen mask off and the whites of his eyes were flashing as he bounced the back of his head against the hard wall behind him.

'Alex?'

He appeared not to hear George's statement of his name and certainly didn't react to it. The bandage around his hand had become unravelled during his altercation with Meredith who looked like she was going to have a nice bruise on her cheek in a few hours time. Some gauze swabs were drenched in blood and stuck in place while others had fallen to the floor, more blood was collecting on the tips of his fingers before dripping with bright red clarity to the linoleum at his feet.

'Alex?'

Miranda noted the scared waiver that inflected George's voice as he called Alex's name for the second time and from the corner of her vision she saw the Chief slip past a wide eyed Christina and out into the hallway.

Alex was still unresponsive, continuing to pound the back of his head softly and methodically into the wall behind him and murmuring soft indistinct sounds under his breath. Miranda could see the Meredith was crying but she wondered if the distraught intern even realised it as the tears fell unchecked onto the pink t-shirt she had been wearing under the now discarded scrub top Miranda had seen her removing what seemed like a lifetime ago.

She chanced taking a step closer to Alex, drawing up beside George who had seemingly frozen in the last position from which he had called Alex's name. Alex still seemed not to see them so she continued towards him as he was visibly beginning to sag down the wall. The wrestle with Meredith and the movements that followed had used up what little energy he seemed to have regained and Miranda was beginning to seriously worry about him doing even more damage to his hand if he fell.

'Alex? I'm going to come over okay? I'm not going to hurt you and I'm not going to touch you if you don't want me to but I'm just going to come over so we can talk…'

He continued the murmuring, which Miranda could now decipher to be '_my fault, my fault, my fault'_ whispered continually as though the only words he knew but at least he stopped hitting his head against the wall.

'Alex? Can you hear me?'

The towels that had been draped over him had all fallen away and even in his weakened state Miranda couldn't help noticing that if he really wanted to cause some damage, to them or to himself, there was going to be little she could do about it, at least not without some help. With the Chief out of the room her only functioning support seemed to be Christina and even she was oddly silent and still by the doorway.

'Alex, I really need you to say something…'

'Jess?'

Not the response Miranda had been hoping for but it seemed to spur O'Malley back into action.

'Alex, she's not here, it's okay…' he offered, voice strained and desperate.

Alex seemed to collapse in on himself at George's words and both Miranda and George lurched forward to catch him as his knees buckled and he began to fall. Once he was safely back on the ground Miranda moved away, leaving George to wrap the shivering figure into a tight embrace and bury his face in Alex's hair. She could see he was saying something but she felt neither need nor desire to know what it was as Alex's eyes clenched shut and it became difficult to tell whether the sobs or the cold were causing his violent trembling.


	4. Chapter 4

The Weight Of Water 

Chapter Four

Word Count: 3300

Rating: Implied George/Alex and some swearing.

Story Summary: The aftermath of the ferry disaster. George and Alex in the morgue taking pictures, the rest is completely AU as Alex must cope with personal tragedy and the emotional fall out of the crash.

Chapter Summary: Alex's POV.

A/N: This chapter is a lot different from the previous three but it was that way for a reason. Please let me know if you thought it worked because it was harder to write but more satisfying at the same time.

Also, this is possibly the last chapter because I just read through it again and I think the ending works quite well but please let me know if you agree/disagree/don't care either way…

xxxx

Well, the marshmallows were back, as white and as fluffy and as vanillery as they were before only…harsher now, not as comfortable. Alex couldn't help but think the re-emergence of the marshmallows was a bad thing. His eyes fluttered open momentarily and were instantly assaulted by the sterile fluorescent light above his head; it leeched into his brain and made his heart hammer into his bones.

A groan suddenly, loud and reverberating.

Where the hell did that come from

His throat was sore…oh, him. Shit.

'_Alex, can you hear me?'_

'No.'

He felt his lips curl into a half smile that pulled at his dry skin. It felt like he was sitting on a roof somewhere (maybe in eastern Europe, he'd always wanted to go there, maybe find his Nan, maybe she was nothing like his Dad…) looking down at an empty human shell that looked freakishly like him but was also a complete stranger.

'Can _you_ hear _me_?'

His rooftop sitting self yelled the words at the top of his lungs, feeling the sounds as they bounced and echoed and chimed their way down to the cobblestones below and up to the spire above his head_. Can you hear me?_ There were people on the street below, rugged up and hurrying, leaning into the fierce wind that seemed to evaporate before it reached him, reclining shirt-less and sun drenched on the moss covered shingles.

He felt his ribs shake, like he was laughing maybe but he couldn't hear the telltale sounds of mirth. Maybe it was one of those soundless laughs that some people had, where their whole body would shake and tears would creep down their cheeks and their faces would turn red and purple and lilac but no sound came out. He hated those laughs they freaked him out. It seemed to defy all logic for a laugh to be silent.

He groaned again and tried to roll over to stop the rib shaking. He didn't want to be a silent laugher.

'_Alex, you need to keep still...'_

'_We're looking at your hand…'_

'_Radiology's waiting…'_

'_There's buzzards on the front lawn, they want to know where to park the Tarago…'_

'What?'

He was still on the roof but he wasn't in Europe any more, it felt more open, desert-like…Africa? Australia? (Yeah, boxing kangaroos and strange ball sports and surfing). There were ripples in the sand like a wind he couldn't feel had spent hours crafting them into existence. The body was still below him though. He saw the creature's brow crease into a confused frown, like it didn't know where it was…how could it not know.

Everybody knows where they are.

Don't they?

'_Alex?'_

Ohh, now there was trouble.

'George?'

The rooftop disappeared, the creature below him shrivelling into a twisted pile of rubble before vaporising in a dust cloud, hazing his vision. The rib shaking continued but he could tell it wasn't laughter because everything hurt and nothing that was funny really hurt that much…this much.

_'Can we get some heated blankets in here, temps still around 36…'_

Ah…so he was cold.

Not amused.

Made sense.

Kind of.

'_Is he awake?'_

'_I think so but he's really out of it…'_

'_We've got an OR booked and Dr. Chiu's on his way over from Mercy, Torres and Sloan will be assisting…'_

_'It's an absolute mess…'_

At least the buzzards were gone.

Something warm was draped over him then, hot and heavy and pleasingly suffocating. It slowed the rib shaking but didn't make it go away completely. Alex was beginning to wonder if it would ever go away but he didn't mind because now he knew it wasn't freaky silent laughing he thought he could probably live with it.

Or die with it.

Whatever.

'_Are we ready for transport?'_

'_I've phoned Radiology, they know we're about ready…'_

'_What are his vitals?'_

_'Should we push some more sedative or wait and see how quick they need to anaesthetise?'_

Sedate? Anaesthetise? What? Shit.

'No.'

Good, that was stronger than he'd hoped for which considering how he really felt was more than he should expect.

'No more.'

Should he be polite? Would it help his cause? His mother always told him to mind his manners…his mother…Ha.

'Please?'

_'Okay Alex, we'll hold off for as long as we can. We're just going to take you…'_

(Yeah, whatever…)

The marshmallows were beginning to drift apart, to separate down the centre. He told himself not to open his eyes no matter what but in the next instant he was staring at the top of someone's fuzzy head so he figured that stern talking to didn't turn out quite as he'd planned. Couldn't even obey his own orders. No wonder his mother (there she was again) couldn't wait to be rid of him. No wonder his father…well…

The parting of the marshmallows was beginning to speed up, like someone had hit fast forward (hell, did people even say that any more? Wasn't it all digital and skip and high definition?) and a movie of clouds was shape shifting and disappearing and reappearing and raining in double time across his retinas.

It wasn't until the very last marshmallow was slowly ebbing from his vision that someone set fire to his hand.

Deliberately and calculatingly.

The fire started in his fingertips and doubled and tripled and quadrupled (and if he knew what the word was for saying multiplied by one hundred then…that too). Until all the sound that was in him built up and pushed at the surface, until liquid circumnavigated his eye balls and escaped through his clenched lids, until he felt his back arch off the mattress, sweat gathering between his shoulder blades and soaking the sheets.

He tried to move his hand away from the source of the flames but felt strong fingers latch around his bicep, while someone (something?) pressed down on his chest.

'_Alex, lay still…'_

'_We'll get you some pain meds…'_

'_Alex, relax and breathe…'_

'_Nice and deep and slow…'_

Something cool and firm was secured tightly over his nose and mouth and suddenly breathing was no longer painful it was damn impossible.

So now they were suffocating him too.

Great.

And then suddenly the marshmallows were back, only this time they were raspberry and hot pink and sticking to his fingers and the scorching Australian sand was sliding between his toes as the hunched eastern Europeans hurried past bent into the prevailing headwind.

Wait, that can't be right.

But it was.

And then it wasn't.

xxxx

The next time he woke up there were no marshmallows for cushioning, no rooftops to keep him hidden from view, no sand to sink into, no Mum, no Nan, no Dad. For the first time in a long time there was just him and not for the first time, for the tenth time, the hundredth time, the millionth time he felt totally and utterly terrified of himself, in himself...for himself.

_'Alex?_' 

And then there was George and even though Alex had yet to open his eyes, he could feel hands on his forehead and breath on his face and he was so certain it was George he could almost taste him. In that moment Alex knew that as soon as he opened his eyes everything was going to be different. The world was going to tilt, almost imperceptibly, on its axis but it was going to rock his foundations. Walls that had taken him years to painstakingly construct would crumble (and weren't those profound realisations for someone still half anaesthetised and doped out to be having but he guessed he should be grateful the buzzards hadn't returned because for all he had forgotten, the memory of the buzzards remained). He kept his eyes locked shut for another three seconds; he even counted them out inside his head to preserve the moment for that precious extra few beats.

Extra beats where he could pretend it was normal to see your dead sister's face on complete strangers. Where it was normal to taste blood in chocolate milkshakes and beer. Normal to vomit up everything you ate and to use the tools of your trade (his hands) to shatter solid surfaces that reflect your own image simply because your degree of hate for yourself is stronger than anything else, love included, you have ever experienced.

Or received.

'George?'

His voiced wavered pathetically and the end of the word was cut off slightly as the sound echoed painfully in his ears, mocking him.

It had started already.

He opened his eyes.

There was dust at his feet.

_'Alex can you hear me?'_

He could and he wanted to say yes. He wanted to scream it from those damn rooftops but his voice (had he ever had one?) was stuck in his throat. He felt mute and lost and he could tell he was crying because his face was on fire and the tears were those annoying ones that tickle as they run past your nose and drip off the edge of your jaw line.

The ones you want to wipe away viciously with a swipe of your hand but you never do because they always come at a time when even lifting a hand to your own face feels like a move you would need to sleep for a week to gather the energy for.

And then George did it for him and the annoying tickle was gone and there was nothing about to drip off the edge of his jaw line (well not until the next tear arrived anyway).

_'Oh Alex? What happened?'_

Well, first I was being an inconsiderate asshole in the morgue where my dead sister and her unborn child were stuck in a thick plastic body bag. Then I desecrated her memory by traipsing around the hallways with her like some kind of martyr. Then my mother said she hated me (or did that happen first?). Then you looked at me like I was something you could break, like I wasn't something that did the breaking any more, like I was broken already. Then I smashed a mirror (seven years…just add it to the list).

Well, first I beat the shit outta my Dad and he screamed that he wished my Mum had aborted me like he told her to, like she had wanted to and then he left and he never came back and she never contradicted what he said even though she was right there in the room when he said it.

Well, first my dad beat the shit outta me. More times than I can remember. More times than I can forget.

Well first…I was born.

'I don't know.'

But he did.

He just didn't want to.

George's brown liquid eyes were melting his resolve and his quivering lower lip would have undone Alex if he wasn't already completely unzipped and unbuttoned and untied. His arm was pulsating pain from his fingertips to the top of his head and even though it was making his teeth clench so tight he thought any minute he going was to break his own jaw, he also knew the pain was a good thing because the alternative was numbness.

Numbness in his head, in his heart would be a welcome relief but numbness in his hand, well if he ever gets through this he might just need that hand again for something important.

Because even if he wasn't important, maybe his hand could be.

And maybe that would be enough.

Maybe.

_'Do you want me to get you something for your hand?_' 

So George was worried about his jaw too? Well that was something new. Alex didn't think he could recall a time someone actually worried about him, he couldn't even remember worrying about himself. It had always seemed kind of redundant to do that, to worry about something that no one else even realised existed. It was much easier to not care and he thinks that's probably why he chose that option, it was easier and easier meant not hard which was good because hard things he had a tendency to fuck up.

Like his boards, like his college friendships, like drawing circles in kindergarten and speaking in front of his whole class in year six when the night before he'd received a black eye and bruised ribs as a birthday present.

Like being a good big brother.

Like being a good son.

'I'm okay…'

'_Are you sure because they haven't given you anything yet, they wanted to wait until you woke up_…'

Was he awake? Alex wasn't really sure yet. He thought maybe he was getting close to something resembling awake but if this, how he felt at this exact moment, was awake then he thought maybe he should just go back to sleep again because asleep was so much easier (and he always did like the easy option).

_'Alex?'_

He opened his eyes, startled momentarily for two reasons. Firstly he'd forgotten George was there which was strange in itself because George's short white fingers were interlaced with his own darker, longer ones and were gently scraping back and forth across his knuckles in a way he guessed George probably thought was comforting (and maybe it was…for George) and secondly, he didn't even realise he'd fallen asleep.

That's how easy it must be.

_'Are you okay? Do you want me…'_

…to stop scraping your fingers across my knuckles? Yes.

…to stop looking at me like I'm made of porcelain and fine bone china and cotton candy and about to shatter in your arms? Yes.

…to cover my face with a pillow and hold it down until I stop struggling and screaming because they will only be reflex and not an indication of what I really want? Yes.

… to forget about me? Yes (everyone does eventually, you may as well do it now).

'I'm fine George, don't worry about me…'

Alex shifted slightly under the covers, deliberately making it uncomfortable for George to keep his grip on his fingers and without that anchoring pressure Alex felt himself begin to float away again and keeping his eyes open became a desperate struggle which he could feel himself losing.

_'Why don't you get some sleep? There are a few people that want to talk to you but I'll tell them you're asleep…'_

'Who? What do they want? What did I do?'

_'Relax Alex, it's okay. Just Dr. Bailey and maybe the chief, plus the surgeon from Mercy who operated on your hand wants to have a look at it and…'_

But wasn't okay because they would want answers and they would want to know how and how come and for how long. Alex could handle George because George was a puppy dog and Alex could simply ignore him and George would know, instinctively, that he needed to shut up. But these people, they would press and push and pry until everything was gone and usually, maybe, Alex could fight that. Fight with a smirk and a wave and a shrug of the shoulders (especially if they were girls). But he was completely out of fight. He had left it all on that cold bathroom floor and it had drained away with his blood in a swirl of blue water and red life and black strength.

'No. I don't want them in here. Don't let them come in.'

(Alex, where are your manners?)

'Please George, please don't let them in.'

But it was too late because there they were and all Alex could do was pray his heart stopped beating, or his lungs stopped expanding, or his brain died.

Or buzzards appeared on the lawn.

_'Alex? Dr. Chiu just wants to have a look at your hand then we'll get you some pain meds and…'_

Dr. Bailey was the worst because he'd had to try so hard with her. Right from the beginning. To get her to like him, to understand him, to help him, to leave him alone and to not ask questions. He could tell they were all staring at him, and the way she spoke to him, slow and overly articulate. Like suddenly (suddenly?) he was stupid.

But he couldn't even look at them. Not that he wanted to, but even if he did. His eyes were stuck. Open and unblinking and…

Oh no. That can't be right.

Because other people could see and he never, ever let anyone else see.

(Except George)

But there they were. Tickling the side of his nose and dripping of the edge of his jaw line and because he hadn't slept at all for a month, let alone solidly for a week, his hand stayed limp and unmoving by his side and refused to wipe them away.

_'Dr. Bailey? Can we uh…maybe…just have a minute?'_

And then they were gone and Alex could have kissed George but George was too far away and pacing and not looking at Alex.

But at least the tears had stopped.

He hoped.

'George?'

That got his attention. George stopped pacing and spun to face Alex. His own eyes wide and unblinking and bright with unshed tears which Alex just knew instinctively were his fault (because everything was). And suddenly all Alex could think about was letting George swallow him up. He wanted to climb into George's skin with him and to live in there because it looked so much warmer and so much more inviting than his own skin had ever been.

'George…please?'

_'What Alex? Tell me what's going on because I don't know what to say and I just…'_

'Please don't cry George. Please don't cry because of me.'

The _because I'm not worth_ it was implied.

But it was there.

On the tip of his tongue.

_'Alex, please tell me what's wrong…'_

Everything.

Nothing.

Maybe.

Probably.

'I don't know.'

And he was sobbing now. The tears were beyond tickling because they didn't stop enough to start again and they didn't drip any more. They curled under his chin and crept down his neck to soak the hospital gown he'd been draped in. Like they were now a part of him and couldn't be separated.

And he was sobbing now.

Because he did know.

Because there were wires coming out the end of his fingers and his wrist was in traction and he didn't even know if he cared any more.

Because he was meant to be an uncle and now he never would be and he'd already bought presents that were in a box in his closet and now he couldn't even bring himself to open his closet door even though he'd sealed the box up with a whole roll of packing tape and shoved it right to the back under an old blanket he'd found in there when he'd moved in.

Because recently he'd decided he wanted to be a neonatal surgeon and now the very thought of a pregnant woman made him want to scream, or vomit, or punch something and sometimes he did all three when no one was looking.

Because the last time he'd broken bones in this arm was when he'd punched his Dad and the time before that was when his Dad had thrown him down the back stairs and the time before that…

Because he loved his sister but he'd never once told her.

Because he wanted his Mum to love him but she'd never once said that she did.

Because he told his Dad he hated him.

Because his Dad said he hated him back.

Because they both meant it.

Because neither of them meant it.

Because it was too late.

And he was sobbing now.

Because he loved George.

Because he knew he'd never say it to his face.

Because if George didn't say it back then he'd slit his wrists (metaphorically and literally).

_'Alex, I love you…I want to…'_

And then George said it first.

TBC?


	5. Chapter 5

**The Weight of Water**

**Chapter 5**

Word Count: 2500

Rating: Implied George/Alex but no _actual_ George this chapter…poor George.

Story Summary: The aftermath of the ferry disaster. George and Alex in the morgue taking pictures, the rest is completely AU as Alex must cope with personal tragedy and the emotional fall out of the crash.

Chapter Summary: 'Because he said he loves me…'

A/N: Well, I have attachment issues…I just couldn't let it go…so…I bring you chapter five, the next and not the last.

XXXX

It was late afternoon when Joe heard the jingle of the bell above the door to his bar. He'd just finished cleaning the remaining glasses in preparation for the busy end of work day period that usually began around six when the office blocks surrounding his establishment closed for the day and lasted well into the evening, continually propped up by the shift changes at Seattle Grace. He looked up and was surprised to see Alex Karev, head down, beanie clamped firmly over his ears and shading his eyes, heading for a stool at the bar.

'Alex. Hey man, how's things?'

He'd not seen Alex since before he'd left to head home for his sister's funeral but he'd heard the story, well he'd heard varying versions of it anyway. How much of them he actually believed was difficult to determine but if the rumours were even half way true he wasn't sure how Alex was still standing let alone functioning enough to be walking into his bar.

Alex simply shrugged his shoulders at Joe's typical greeting and gave him a half smirk that was familiar but different all at once. His right arm was held protectively to his chest in a white sling and Joe couldn't help but stare at the metal protruding from his skin and disappearing back into the plaster, stark white cast wrapped from his knuckles to just before his elbow.

'Gruesome hey?'

'Jesus Alex…one of the docs mentioned you'd broken your arm but…that…'

Alex slid his weight onto a stool and raised his arm slightly to rest it on the bar in front of him, wincing visibly as his slightly curled fingers straightened onto the flatter surface.

'You'll scare people off with that!'

Joe could see Alex's expression darken momentarily before he looked up, grinning forcibly.

'Nah, chicks dig injured guys.'

'Chicks? So George is a chick now? He know you go round calling him that in public?'

The darkness returned and instead of answering Alex bent to fumble in his pocket with his left hand, feeling for his wallet and finally slipping it out and folding it open.

'I'll just have a beer thanks Joe.'

Joe recognised the attempt to alter the course of the conversation, hell he'd tried to talk to Alex many times over the past year and knew he was well versed in topic changes and diversionary tactics.

'Coming up.'

He deliberately moved to the far end of the bar to pour Alex's beer from the furthest tap. The distance gave him a semblance of space from which he could openly observe the younger man. The beanie was distracting, almost like Alex was using it to hide behind and Joe felt tempted to remind him of his no hats on inside the bar policy but thought better of it as he watched Alex's face screw up slightly as he lifted the injured arm off the bar again and rested it back against his mid section. His eyes remained closed for an extra fraction of a second and Joe wondered if he should be serving someone who was obviously going to have been prescribed some pretty hard core painkillers.

He slid the beer out in front of Alex but kept his hand around the base of the glass.

'Before I let you have this I need to know…you're not planning on mixing this with a dose of pain pills are you?'

Alex appeared to eye Joe carefully, seemingly surprised at his request.

'Umm, no…why?'

There was an edge to his voice that Joe had not experienced before and he found it odd and somewhat disconcerting.

'Well, you look like you could use some so I was just making sure…' came his cautious response. He could sense that Alex was on edge and was mindful of not flaring an already apparently volatile situation.

'Oh, nah…I try not to take 'em, they pretty much put me straight to sleep.'

'Okay fair enough.'

Joe relinquished his grip on the glass and pushed it forward another couple of centimetres towards Alex.

Alex reached a hand out and clasped the glass tightly, raising it slightly and muttering an overly bright _cheers_ to Joe before setting the glass heavily back onto the bar without taking a sip.

'So…drinking alone? Where's George?'

Another shrug of Alex's shoulders and a large swig of the frothy liquid Joe's only reply as veiled eyes refused to look up.

'Oh, okay…that good huh? Want to talk about it?'

That got a look, a sarcastic _'what the hell do you think'_ kind of glare but a look none the less.

'Okay, so I'm guessing that's a no then…'

'Good guess.'

'Alex, I know you've been through hell since the accident…'

'Joe…'

His name a spoken warning.

Joe raised his hands out in front of him, damp cloth hanging limply from one fist, in a sign of mock defeat.

'Hey, I'm just saying, no one blames you for…'

The glass was slammed back onto the bar, its liquid contents sloshing slightly over one side as the base hit at an angle, Alex's agility with his left hand obviously not up to that of his right.

'For what? Blames me for what?'

There was heat in the words, a fierce vehemence almost daring Joe to answer but Joe caught an underlying tone, a desperate pleading that seemed to almost beg, _blames me for what?_

That single sentence told Joe all he needed to know about his young friend, despite any outward claims to the contrary Alex was definitely not okay.

'You can talk to me you know, whenever you want, about whatever you want. Think of me as your local friendly hairdresser only…not as gossipy…or blonde.'

That got him a ghost of a grin.

'Thanks but…I'm fine…really.'

'Whatever you say man, whatever you say.'

Joe turned and stepped away, the jingling bell drawing his attention to new customers that needed serving but his thoughts remained trapped in the conversation he'd just had, if you could call it that. More like a one-sided monologue punctuated every so often by a shrug or a glare.

The bar was beginning to fill rapidly now and Joe could see Alex was being swamped at the counter by eager revellers desperate to quench their thirst after a long day's work. Besides that first swig of his beer, taken more out of spite than actual want or need Alex had yet to touch his drink again. Joe could see him idly spinning the glass on the coaster it had been placed on, thumb and forefinger of his intact left hand doing all the work as he seemed oblivious to the crowd starting to surround him.

He seemed spacey and unfocused and _lost_ and Joe was beginning to question Alex's statement that he hadn't had any painkillers before arriving. He was broken from his reverie by a soft voice behind him and turned to see Walter motioning him to the side with a curled finger and a concerned expression. He handed the change back to the woman he was currently serving and placed her vodka tonic on the bar in front of her before heading back towards Walter.

'What's up?'

'I'll take over out here, phone call for you...George O'malley…'

'George? What does he want?'

Walter shrugged slightly, reminiscent of his earlier dealings with Alex.

'No idea but he sounds a bit edgy, though you never can tell with that boy.'

'Okay, thanks…'

Joe crossed the distance between him and the phone quickly with deliberate strides and grabbed at the receiver.

'George? It's Joe…'

XXXX

Joe hung up the phone slowly and exhaled deeply, knowing what his next move should be but definitely not looking forward to it. He stepped back out into the crowded bar area and sought out Walter, indicating to him with an open raised hand that he needed five more minutes and waited for Walter to nod his understanding before turning to seek out Alex. Joe's eyes landed on him at the same time the happy patron beside him gestured wildly to his companion and bumped backwards heavily into Alex's right upper arm.

The hint of colour Alex had managed to gain since arriving quickly left his face as he clamped his left wrist between his teeth, biting down hard with his eyes clenched tightly shut. Joe rounded the bar and stepped out into the public area, sidestepping his way through the crowd til he'd reached Alex's side. He slid one arm around Alex waist and helped haul him to his feet. Grabbing his wallet that was still on the bar in front of him with his other hand, he guided Alex, eyes still closed and completely reliant on Joe to move him, away from the bar and towards an empty booth on the far side of the room.

'Alex? You with me?'

A grunted '_mmm'_ was his only response as Alex struggled to regain control of his lungs, breath coming in short sharp gasps.

'Open your eyes for me Alex, deep breaths…that's it.'

Alex clamped his left wrist back between his teeth and quietly screamed into it, the mass of bone and skin effectively muting the sound to everyone but Joe.

'Freakin' hell…' he breathed, daring finally to open his eyes a crack until Joe could see their glassy surface.

'You okay?'

Alex took a few more deep breaths before answering, slowly nodding his head up and down in the affirmative.

'That's probably why you're supposed to take the pain pills Alex.'

'Hmmm, probably' he conceded, still looking grey and visibly shaking slightly.

'You got them on you? I'll get you some water…'

'What happened to no mixing?'

'You only had one sip of that beer anyway, I don't think it'll kill you to take something.'

'Just gimme a sec, I'll be right in a minute.'

'So…when did they release you anyway?'

Alex looked up sharply, breath catching in his throat.

'Couple of days ago…why?'

'And the doc said you were good to go?'

'Yeah, 'course, what's this about?'

'So you were released a couple of days ago with the doc's clearance?'

'That's what I said.'

Defences firmly in place.

'So if that's all true then why did I just have George freaking out on the phone asking me if I'd seen you because you'd disappeared AMA from the hospital a few hours ago and he couldn't find you anywhere?'

Try as he might, Joe failed to keep his tone neutral, the accusatory edge biting at his words.

'What the hell Alex?'

Joe flinched, as Alex seemed to deflate in front of him, to curl up even further inside of himself than he already had been when he arrived.

'Alex?'

His tone was softer this time, deliberately calm and questioning.

'I couldn't stay there any more…'

'Okay, I'm sure they would have let you go if you'd spoken to them or at least if you'd spoken to George…'

'I can't speak to George any more…'

'What? Why not? Of course you can.'

'I don't know what to say to him.'

'The truth is always a good place to start Alex…'

He snorted at that, a deep guttural sound that was half sob half smart arsed disbelief.

'George doesn't want to hear the truth…'

'What do you mean?'

Alex curled his left arm around his mid section, enveloping his right in a protective embrace as he leaned forward and placed his forehead on the table top between them, pounding it softly into the surface a couple of times.

'So would I be correct in guessing you told whoever it was that was stupid enough to let you sign the papers that you didn't need pain killers?'

Alex stopped the gentle banging and straightened slightly but remained hunched around his damaged arm. He wasn't as grey as he had been when Joe first reached him and no longer looked like he was about to pass out.

'I told you I'm fine.'

'Is that what you told George?'

'I didn't need to tell George anything, he knows I'm fine…'

'If he knows you're fine then why did he call me in hysterics looking for you?'

'Because he's George and hysterical is his normal state?'

'Alex…'

'What?'

'Talk to me please…what the hell is going on? Why are you hiding from George?'

'I'm not _hiding_ from anyone.'

'Alex…'

'What?'

He was becoming deliberately petulant now, like a naughty schoolboy protesting his innocence.

'What happened between you and…'

Alex cut him off before he could finish.

'Do you think I'm going crazy?'

'What? No. Of course I don't.'

'Everyone else does.'

A confused pause as Joe furrowed his brow.

'I'm sure they don't.'

'Yes they do, I can tell. It's obvious. In the way they look at me, talk to me, _don't_ talk to me…'

'Do _you_ think you're going crazy?'

A shrug of a jacketed shoulder, just the one this time as the right remained steadfastly still.

'Maybe…sometimes…'

He looked up at Joe and for the first time the desperate helplessness on his face was raw and unmasked.

'Yeah…'

He nodded slightly as he whispered the word before settling his gaze back on the white sling, the fingers of his left hand playing with the rough fabric as Joe started to feel slightly panicked and hesitant about where this conversation was headed. This was rapidly bounding way out of his league and he was terrified of saying the wrong thing or even the right thing just at the wrong time or in the wrong place.

'Why do you think that?'

'Don't know really…it's just…ever since…' he trailed off and Joe was unsure whether he intended to continue.

'Ever since the accident?'

'Yeah, well, no not really, not even the accident in general but…I guess after I found her, I don't remember much but I figure I kinda flipped out…'

He looked up and locked his eyes on Joe's seemingly searching for reassurance to keep going. Joe nodded slowly, he knew the vague details but had never asked to know exactly what had happened.

'Well, ever since then everything's been kinda…off. Like uncontrollable or something.'

He seemed to catch himself there, a sharp breath in and a quick jolt upright indicating to Joe that Alex thought he'd gone too far, admitted to too much. He pushed back in the seat slightly, preparing to give himself more room to slide out of the booth.

'Alex, wait a sec…'

'No, I've gotta go. You don't need me here spouting this crap at you…'

'Alex, wait…what about George? Talk to George…please? He's worried about you.'

'I know but…like I said…I can't talk to George…'

He stood up at that, sliding his wallet back into his pocket before returning his left arm to its position as protector.

'Alex, hang on…'

Joe stood too, contemplating whether to follow Alex through the crowd.

'But he'd do anything for you Alex. Why can't you talk to him?'

Alex turned slightly, side on to Joe but continuing to step away, as though desperate to leave and stay at the same time. Conflicted. Torn.

'Because he said he loves me…'


	6. Chapter 6

**The Weight of Water**

**Chapter Six**

Word Count: 2000

Rating: George/Alex and some swearing.

Story Summary: The aftermath of the ferry disaster. George and Alex in the morgue taking pictures, the rest is completely AU as Alex must cope with personal tragedy and the emotional fall out of the crash.

Chapter Summary: And the world passed him by in a blur of tail-lights and the click of high-heeled shoes on the sidewalk under his feet. Alex POV.

XXXX

Alex hadn't realised it would be physically possible for his hand to hurt so unbelievably much he was seriously considering amputation when the rest of him felt so disconsolately numb. He'd fled from Joe's in a state of depressed despair, hoping the long walk home would help dissipate the fog he was walking through but he'd only made it five minutes down the road to a park bench before he felt genuinely concerned that he was going to pass out.

Or throw himself in front of the next passing truck.

He didn't know who he was any more, the person he'd spent his entire life carefully crafting into existence was no long someone he recognised and every emotion, every taste, very touch was foreign and confronting. He'd meant what he said when he asked Joe if he thought he was going crazy. He thought this was probably how it all started. His right arm was carefully cradled against his chest in the sling and his left lay curled in his lap as he silently implored his uninjured fingers to twitch or straighten or _something_ to prove that he was still in control, that he could still make choices and influence outcomes.

They resolutely refused to budge.

And the world passed him by in a blur of tail-lights and the click of high-heeled shoes on the sidewalk under his feet.

He lifted his gaze but not his chin and stared straight ahead at the image of a person directly opposite. The hazy face stared back at him, through him, as though it could read his mind and felt sorry for him.

Almost.

The image smiled. The corners of its eyes lifted and crinkled slightly as though the lines had been chiselled there over years of laughter and happiness. Alex thought he should probably smile back but his lips were numb and his eyes were frozen, semi closed shutters against the world, so he wasn't sure if he succeeded or not.

The face looked away.

So…probably not.

At some point he became aware that soft snow had begun to fall around him but it wasn't settling or causing any chaos which made him wonder if it was only happening to him. The hairs on his arms had lifted, a visual clue that he was cold which was handy. Translucent crystals drifted and landed on them before slowly melting and dissolving into his skin, into him and he wondered how much it would have to snow to cover him completely.

To dissolve him completely.

Maybe he had been covered and dissolved already.

A weight settled over his shoulders and pressed his body deeper into the wooden bench beneath him making it hard to breathe all of a sudden and he struggled to shrug it off, to get out from underneath it.

'Alex?'

Someone spoke but by the time the sound was detected, by the time the words had been processed, by the time he'd painfully shifted his gaze to follow it, the space was empty, an echo. He decided he'd probably imagined it, after all he was crazy now and hearing voices was a classic symptom.

'Alex?'

There it was again but he wasn't going to let it beat him this time and he defiantly refused to acknowledge it. Slid his eyes closed belligerently and even managed a gentle chuckle at his own cleverness.

'Are you okay?'

A heat settled on his forehead this time which was much harder to ignore than the voice and when he dragged his eyelids open his unfocused gaze caught his own reflection in the pools of brown staring back at him intently.

_No. _

'Yep.'

'What are you doing out here?'

_Hearing voices, imagining snow, going crazy._

'Sitting.'

'What?'

_Are you deaf?_

'I said I'm sitting.'

'I can see that but…why? Where have you been? You're freezing, do you even realise that it's snowing out here?'

_Oh._

He smiled.

'I thought it might be, maybe…probably…good.'

'Good?'

_God, who was this person?_

'Yes…good…that it's snowing. Maybe it's not too late after all…'

'Too late for what?'

_Me._

'Nothing.'

'Okay, so you ready to come back to the hospital with me? Joe said you…'

That got his attention. He looked up finally, a reflex motion that he had no control over and he swore he heard the muscles in his neck creak and grind from over exertion but it didn't hurt, well not more than his hand did and that was about all the pain he could process at the moment, he didn't have room for any more.

George.

'Joe? You talked to Joe? What did he say?'

'Yeah, I called there looking for you, said some guy ran into you in the bar and you almost passed out, Alex we really should get you back to the hospital, you look like a ghost…'

_Maybe I am a ghost._

'…and you must need pain meds…'

'No.'

He shook his head childishly, five again.

'Alex, come on…please talk to me, I have no idea what to say, what's going, what you want me to do…I'm trying here…'

'Why?'

George stood again and paced the length of the bench making it impossible for Alex to follow him, to keep him in sight.

'Why what? Why am I trying? Why do I want to help you? You know why Alex, you're my best friend, I…'

'Don't.'

'Don't what?'

'Don't say it.'

_If you don't mean it._

'But Alex…you know I do…I've lo…'

'Don't, please George. Don't say it, don't even think it…just…shit, I've got to…'

Alex staggered to his feet roughly, lurching slightly as the world tilted dangerously before righting itself but not before he'd reached out blindly and latched on to something solid. Something intoxicatingly familiar.

Something George.

Alex felt himself being lowered once again until he was back where he had started on the hard bench only this time pressed up against the warm, beating body of his boyfriend. The points where their bodies met scorched and Alex felt himself torn between pushing away and clinging closer. He was fighting the contact and almost hyperventilating as Gorge struggled to keep him upright and conscious. Hands were pressed over his nose and mouth as his vision greyed and swam and made him nauseous.

George's forehead was pressed against his own and the rawness in his eyes made Alex close his own so he couldn't see it.

'Just relax…breathe slow and deep…try to relax…'

The words were whispered softly into his ear, sureness and calm tinged paradoxically with panic and fear.

'It's okay, its okay, its okay…'

_No it's not, no it's not, no it's not._

'Alex, open your eyes…look at me…Alex?'

The hot hands were removed from over his mouth creating a burst of cold air on his lips that almost stung. As he complied with the request he discovered that the pressure in his head was George's forehead, still pressed against his own and his reflection in George's eyes startled him into jerking back. The sudden movement jarred at his injured arm and caused his vision to grey once again as he fought to suppress a strangled cry.

'Shit…Alex, it's okay…just keep still for a sec alright?'

Fingers were running randomly through his hair and he found the constant motion comforting and even somewhat reassuring though in the recesses of his mind he knew that fingers in his hair meant his beanie had been discarded at some stage and he certainly couldn't remember removing it.

'Freakin' _hell_…' he managed to spit out through clenched teeth as he fought the urge to rip every piece of metal holding his arm together out.

George sat back, relinquishing his position and Alex could see a red pressure point on his forehead where their skin had been pressed together and liked the thought that he had one that matched.

'That's what the pain meds are for…'

Alex snorted half-heartedly and chanced taking a deep shuddering breath, hoping desperately it would dull the pounding in his fingers and the white-hot pain in his elbow.

'Can you walk?'

He opened his eyes to glare defiantly George.

'My _arm_ is fucked not my…'

'Alex, the last time you stood you hyperventilated and passed out…'

'I didn't pass out…'

'Alex…'

'George…'

He smirked sarcastically and heard George release a slow, deliberate breath.

'Alex, what's going on? Why won't you talk to me?'

_Because if you knew the truth you'd be outta here so fast I wouldn't even see your dust._

_Because I killed my sister and admitting it to you means admitting it to myself first and I can't do that yet._

_Because…there are so many reasons…_

Too many reasons… 

'Because there's not really anything to say.'

It was George's turn to snort and Alex had kind of been expecting it anyway.

'Alex…there is _everything_ to talk about…'

Alex shivered and he wasn't sure if it was because of the finality of George's words or the freezing temperature that had finally registered against his exposed skin.

'…but first we really need to get you inside…so, I ask again…can you walk?'

He nodded and waited for George to extricate himself from his position practically on Alex's lap before using his left hand to push himself upright. He turned to the left and took several strides before he realised George had not fallen into step beside him.

Maybe he had been hallucinating after all.

_Typical_.

'Alex?'

He paused but didn't turn around.

'Where are you going?'

'Home.'

'Uh, nope, sorry. Not an option. You're coming with me back to the hospital.'

That had him turning around.

'No way George, I…'

'Alex.'

His name as a warning. He wasn't used to that from George.

Defiance.

'I said…not…an…option.'

He was too stunned to fight back, too exhausted to argue, too busy trying to reconcile the last few hours, days, weeks of his life to launch an effective counter attack.

So he didn't.

'And just so you know, I _do_ love you and I'm allowed to say it whenever I want so…'

George trailed off and even though Alex still didn't believe him, still didn't want to hear it, still knew it wouldn't last…he let it go.

Because letting go was easy.

Pretending was easy.

Faking it was easy.

And he always did go for the easy option.

Less to fuck up that way.

As he retraced his steps back past the bench he dared to glance up and across the road. The figure was still there, still staring back at him and he was tempted to point it out to George when its face cracked into a wide smile and it winked one eye conspiratorially back at him, like it knew he'd given up, like it knew _why_ he'd given up.

And maybe it did.

After all it did look a lot like him.

A baby cried to his left and he tensed, waiting for the onslaught of disgust and panic and _hate_ that he had grown accustomed to and was shocked when it didn't happen.

There was nothing left in him any more to care.

He had been defeated by circumstance and overpowered by events completely out of his control.

He could feel the cold slowly ebbing away and by the time the image across the road disappeared behind a truck and then failed to reappear once it had passed through, the numbness had returned and taken up residence deep in his bones. Even the pain in his arm had been reduced to a dull ache in the back of his head that he felt he could probably live with if push came to shove.

If this was it for him from now on.

Destined to follow dumbly in footsteps placed long before he had even arrived.

_The unwanted son._

_The dead girls big brother._

_No one's uncle._

_Someone's friend._

_George's lover._

Forever defined by everyone else.

Because it was easier that way.

END

A/N: Okay, I know I have threatened this before but this is really it. Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed and most of all reviewed. Your kind words were most appreciated and kept me going!

If you want more of my stuff to read or have an Alex addiction that needs feeding then please check out my other stuff…

**Don't Even Want To Talk About It** – A chapter story focused on Alex but involving just about everyone that I update regularly.

**At Last** – A oneshot from Alex's POV where he is the one who falls in during the ferry accident and not Meredith. This is A LOT different to my other two stories so I would be keen on some feedback regarding this one in particular because if it was popular then I can do some more.

Both are posted on and Live Journal.

I am participating in an 'altered mind states' challenge at the moment so rest assured those who crave it as much as I do….there WILL be more Alex angst! It's on its way.


End file.
